Found and Lost
by Merlin Missy
Summary: Consequences 6.  While the clan searches for its lost member, Thailog's plans come together.
1. Chapter 1

VVVVV  
Consequences Part Six: Found and Lost (1/3)  
a Gargoyles story  
by Merlin Missy  
Copyright 2005  
PG-15  
VVVVV

Disney and Buena Vista Television own the characters, situations, and  
such. Sixth story in the "Consequences" series. If you haven't read  
the others, you're going to be lost. If you haven't read the others  
recently, you're probably still going to be lost. Special thanks to  
Constance for the superfast and supercool beta. Additional thanks to  
Kimberly T, without whom this really really wouldn't have been  
finished.

Content warning: non-con. (Thailog and Delilah. If that's a pairing  
that squicks you as much as it does me, you may want to take a pass.  
There are reasons I put off writing this story.)

VVVVV

"Greatness," wrote Thailog, "is not something which is thrust upon  
one, nor something granted like an inheritance. Greatness is  
something every man must achieve for himself, something for which  
he must bite and claw every hour."

He paused, then erased the last sentence. "Greatness is that for which  
he must toil every day, never allowing himself surcease from the  
struggle. The sweet fruition of earthly greatness is the only true goal  
in man's existence. All else is vain posturing, and fulfillment of  
bestial desires."

Thailog glanced over from his desk to where Delilah sat quietly on  
the floor. With some reluctance, he had allowed her a doll.  
Soundlessly, she was speaking to it, moving her lips and her hands,  
pausing a moment to listen to its equally silent response. Her face  
broke into a grin at whatever the doll said.

"There are steps to greatness," he continued, the words appearing  
before him on the faintly glowing screen. "The most vital is also the  
most primal. No man can be great while standing in another's  
shadow, and the shadow which will forever cover his is that of his  
father.

"To truly achieve greatness, every man must kill his father.

"Often, this is accomplished financially, spiritually, or  
psychologically. Ancient cultures knew this to be inadequate. Hence  
the ritual of the sacred king, and the full richness of Oedipus. Deep  
within, every man knows that he will only know complete freedom  
when his hand holds the knife drenched in his father's life blood."

A tiny alarm began beeping. Thailog saved and passworded his file.

"Delilah, return to your room. I need to go for a while."

Delilah nodded, and picked up her doll. "Have you taken your  
medicine this evening?" She nodded again. He asked her, "Are you  
certain?"

"Yes," she said, very quietly, not looking at him. _Good._

"I will be back before dawn," he said, and watched her cringe. After  
she closed the door, he locked it behind her.

The time would come when he killed his fathers, all of them. For  
now, it was nice to know that at least someone feared him. He made  
a mental note to add that to his journal later.

VVVVV

It was nearly sunrise, and Elisa watched the skyline. At last, the  
familiar shapes glided into view in pairs: Goliath and Hudson, Lex  
and Nashville, Brooklyn and Broadway. Katana had spent the  
evening in with Tachi, who had a slight cold. Even now they were in  
the castle proper, probably would spend the day there, if they didn't  
make it up to the towers quickly.

Goliath landed next to her. Normally, he would take her hand and  
smile, but things hadn't been "normal" since Derek and Maggie's  
wedding, since the people in the Labyrinth had repelled an invasion  
from the Quarrymen, since ...

"Any luck?" she asked quietly, and he shook his head.

Trying to quell her disappointment, she pulled out her map of the city,  
let the others hurriedly mark in turn the areas they'd searched this  
time. They'd begun a grid approach, which would work only if  
Thailog wasn't moving around, or had not left the city entirely. After  
the clan turned to stone for the day, she'd go to the Labyrinth and find  
out from Derek what he and Angela and the clones had found for the  
night.

She heard small feet scamper up behind her, and stepped out of the  
way as Tachi launched herself into Brooklyn's arms.

"Hi, Daddy!"

"Hey, Tachi-chan. How are you feeling?"

"Lots better."

Elisa had to turn away from them. Her own child was gone, held  
captive by a monster, and as much as she loved the joy on Brooklyn's  
face, she ached.

Goliath's hand slipped over her shoulder. She leaned back and rested  
against him. "Tonight," he whispered into her hair. "We will find her  
tonight." He pulled away, and moments later, turned to stone.

Goliath always said that.

She took the elevator back to the parking garage and drove to the  
nearest entrance to the Labyrinth, her mind a million miles away.  
This wasn't standard Missing Persons. This wasn't even non-standard,  
like the case she'd coincidentally been assigned to "find" Maggie.  
There was no one to ask who had not already been asked, nowhere to  
search that had not been examined thoroughly. They'd even sent  
Angela to ask Demona for help.

Nothing.

He'd had her for weeks.

Elisa knew her work was suffering. She had a heavy caseload, and  
while she liked her new partner, she didn't trust him with her secrets  
and she couldn't explain to him why she spent so much of her time  
frantically tracking down leads on a Mr. Alexander Thailog.

Down in the Labyrinth, she found Maggie kneeling on the floor in the  
playroom with Daniel. Her nephew looked up at her with a wide,  
fanged grin and waved a truck at her.

"Hey, Daniel. Hi, Maggie. Anything?"

But she knew before Maggie spoke that there had been no sign, no  
news. Maggie wore the same tired worry and grief on her face that  
Elisa saw in her mirror every afternoon before work.

"Derek's sleeping, but he left a note for you." Maggie nodded to the  
table. "The boys did good last night. Angela's pleased with their  
progress."

"Yeah. That's what she was telling me." Elisa picked up her brother's  
note, marked on her map the sections of the grid he'd gone over with  
the clones.

"Wouldn't the search be easier if they were at the castle?" There was  
something in Maggie's voice that made Elisa put down her pencil and  
kneel down beside her.

"Maggie ... "

"No, it'd be a good idea. Angela can go back at the same time, and  
the boys can go, and that'll double the searchers. Derek would stay  
here, but he could coordinate with you there."

"Derek is already coordinating with us. Angela and the boys are  
helping us where they are now. Thailog will keep track of the clan;  
he can't watch the Labyrinth as easily. The fewer gargoyles he knows  
are looking for him, the more likely he is to slip up."

"Well, he hasn't slipped up yet, has he?" The strain came through in  
her voice and Daniel stopped playing to look up curiously at his  
mother. Elisa wrapped her arms around her sister-in-law, mindful of  
the fact that, if pissed enough, Maggie could easily electrocute her.

"We're looking. We'll find her." If she repeated it to herself enough,  
she'd believe it.

"He's hurting her. Every night we don't find them, he's hurting her."

"I know."

Maggie wept quietly; Elisa held her, pushing away her own tears for  
another day.

VVVVV

" ... Thus ends this assembly. So mote it be." The hooded figure  
puffed out the candle, engulfing the room in darkness. Once, in days  
of old, this would have been a sign for the other members of the  
Order to file out quietly and scurry back to their lives.

Someone near the back of the room flicked on the switch. The  
meeting of the Illuminati was now well-lit by tastefully recessed wall  
lights. The members blinked in the sudden light, and removed their  
hoods.

David sighed internally. Being a member of a secret society was  
supposed to be, well, _cooler_ than this.

He smiled amiably at his fellow Illuminati, noting which faces he'd be  
seeing later that week at a merger meeting, which faces he'd pretend  
not to recognize at all. There would be refreshments in the outer  
room, and Owen had been after him to mingle more. He'd spent too  
much time home with Fox and Alexander, with the Clan, with,  
perhaps, his conscience, and Owen was concerned that his lack of  
"face time" among the unseen movers and shakers of the world might  
end up getting David (and thus his extended family) moved and/or  
shaken.

He'd have a glass of champagne. He'd chat with someone he knew.  
He'd leave.

Champagne: check. "Diana," he said pleasantly, to the closet person  
he saw. "Congratulations on becoming a member."

"David! How nice to see you here!" The woman took a long drink  
from her own glass, clearly nervous. "Are all the meetings like this?"

"Most are about as boring," he said, smiling. Diana Mathers owned  
and operated Moonrise Management, the same company which had  
placed a much younger David Xanatos in his position with  
Cyberbiotics back in the day. Were it not for her, he might not have  
met Fox. True, she smoked too much, and he was certain the auburn  
in her hair came from a salon these days, but he liked her. He couldn't  
say that about many people in the room this evening.

"Now, David," said another voice. He turned, just as another woman  
approached, placing a too-friendly hand on David's arm. "It's not so  
bad. We do great things here."

"Of course," his brain tossed up a name, "June. I was simply  
commenting on how the most exciting events in world history are  
rarely preceded by someone insisting on reading the minutes of the  
previous meeting."

Diana covered her laugh with her hand. The older woman smirked.  
David wondered if he could edge her politely out of his conversation,  
as he would enjoy a chance to catch up with Diana, but not if it meant  
putting up with June Landsford.

He'd encountered Landsford only rarely in his daily business. She ran  
an exclusive cosmetics and perfume business, catering only to the top  
female executives in the world. David happened to know this was  
merely a ruse, that she made her real money selling charms and  
enchantments to well-to-do businesswomen: spells to undercut  
competitors, love potions, and everything in-between. Owen didn't  
trust her, and David didn't, either.

"Diana, why don't you let me introduce you around?" He slipped  
away from Landsford's grasp to offer Diana his arm.

"I really can't stay," Diana said. "Work to be done back at the office,  
you know how it is."

"Of course. Give Mark my regards."

"I will. Tell Owen and Fox I said hello. Oh! And I'd love to see  
pictures of Alexander some time. I'm sure he's gotten so big."

"Enormous."

"It was nice meeting you, dear," said Landsford, extending her hand  
quickly. "June Landsford, Jontique."

"Diana Mathers, Moonrise Management."

"Here's my card," Landsford said. "I think you'll like our services."

"Thank you," Diana replied, obviously confused as she placed the  
card in her tiny purse.

"I should be getting home as well," David said, smoothly. "June, it  
was lovely to see you as always." He set down his glass. He nodded  
politely to the other members who looked his way. Owen be damned,  
he could make nice later.

"David," said Landsford, "will I be seeing you and your lovely wife at  
the benefit on Thursday?"

"We wouldn't miss it." Time to go. "Diana, if you'd like, I can walk  
you out."

"That would be wonderful. Do we have to tell anyone we're going?"

"Not as a rule." He noted that a few more heads were watching him  
as he escorted her out of the room. That would make interesting  
gossip for someone, he was certain.

"So how _is_ Alex?"

"Growing like a weed. His birthday was three months ago and he's  
already outgrown everything."

Diana smiled. She wasn't married and had no children. David had  
met her dates on a few occasions, but he suspected her schedule and  
commitments made it difficult for her to find time for something  
more.

Owen waited with the limo in the circular driveway. "Ms. Mathers,"  
he said pleasantly when he saw her.

"Owen! How have you been? It's been ages." Genuine pleasure  
filled her features as she took his gloved hand, and David recalled  
Moonrise had placed Owen at Cyberbiotics as well.

"I am well, thank you."

"Diana, do you need a ride back to the city?" They usually met here  
at the manor house on Staten Island; he was not sure how she'd  
arrived for her first meeting.

"No," she said, and David thought there was a touch of wistfulness.  
"I brought my car. Take care, David. Owen." Her own vehicle was  
parked four cars away. Owen waited politely outside until she had  
safely started her ignition.

Only when they were finally on the Expressway did David remark,  
"I'd never really noticed before, but I do believe Diana has a crush on  
you, Owen."

There was a noise from the driver's seat. Possibly a groan.

"What was that, Owen?"

"Nothing, sir."

"I could call her for you. Ask her to come over. Surely we need to  
hire someone for some position or another."

"Sir."

"You've known her for years. She's not seeing anyone right now that I  
know of."

"Sir!"

"Is it the age difference? Three thousand years is a bit of a gap."

"Respectfully, Mr. Xanatos? Please shut up."

David covered his grin with his hand, and stopped bothering him.  
Teasing Owen was usually Fox's sport, but sometimes, it was just too  
much fun to resist.

VVVVV

The night air was warm, even up here. The dog-days of August had  
broken to yield a pleasant end to the summer, and Lex was  
determined to enjoy every ounce of it before another New York  
winter set in. If he could call what they were doing now enjoyable.

"Anything?"

"Same as always," said Nashville. The younger gargoyle kept his  
eyes peeled as they glided above Harlem. "Wait, what about there?"

Nash pointed to a tall building nearby. Lex saw the tell-tale claw  
marks at the top, and as it had so many times before, hope flared  
briefly as they circled in for a better look. "No," he said, after a  
moment's inspection. "These are old. You can tell by the erosion.  
Goliath probably landed here a year or two ago." Nash peered closer,  
then nodded.

"It was a good catch, though," Lex told him, as they headed away  
from the building. _It could have been Thailog this time. It could  
have._

As the days went by, it looked less and less likely that they'd find any  
trace of Thailog, or far more importantly, Delilah. Their best hope,  
which Goliath told them nightly before patrols, was that his dark  
clone would get sloppy as time went by, and not cover his trail. In the  
meantime, they had to keep looking. Lex knew all this, but it was  
frustrating to go night after night, finding nothing but old marks they  
had made themselves and nothing else. He'd tried searching the web  
for suspicious activities and purchases, but Thailog was just as  
careful, and yielded nothing.

He wasn't the only one. Brooklyn had been tight-lipped ever since the  
attack on the Labyrinth. He'd changed so much during the forty years  
of his adventures with the Phoenix Gate; while before, Lex had  
known how to read his brother's emotions pretty well, one of the more  
annoying changes was Brooklyn's new-found ability to disguise those  
thoughts.

Brooklyn knew the future. He'd seen it.

And grief was the only thing Lexington could read in his brother's  
eyes when 'Lilah's name was mentioned.

What made no sense, what Lex couldn't fathom, was why, then, did  
Brooklyn also insist on going out nightly, on searching, on insisting  
she was still alive?

He glanced at Nashville.

"You know," Lex started, "this could be a lot easier if you tell me  
what you know."

"Like what?" Nash scanned the cityscape. He was getting much  
better at identifying the noises and signals of this world, what was  
going to be a crime, what was a normal squeal of joy or tires. He was  
adjusting.

"About Delilah. About why your dad is being so weird about this."

Nash looked away. "He's not being weird."

"Sure he is. And so are you. You know something." He felt like a  
heel for this, but he had to try: "Any piece of information, no matter  
how small, could make the difference between saving her and not.  
You could help."

"That's why we're out here."

"So you're not gonna tell me," said Lex. Nashville said nothing.  
They glided silently for a few minutes.

"I can't."

"Because of the future."

Nash nodded. "It's one thing to know history, and another to be there  
living it, wanting to ... "

"Wanting to change it?"

"Knowing I can't, ever, anything. So why bother trying?" He  
swooped low over the Park, and Lex tagged close behind.

Lex said, "Goliath once told us that Puck showed him a vision of the  
future, a horrible vision. Goliath called him on it, later, and Puck said  
the future hadn't been written yet."

"Puck's an annoying drefthead and he's wrong. Been there, seen the  
snarting video."

Lex considered calling him on the language, then realized he had no  
idea what Nash had just said. They continued their silent patrol, each  
lost in his own world. Not for the first time, Lex pondered what it  
might be like to know what was going to happen, and not be able to  
change a word of it. He had no idea what Nash was thinking.

And then Nash said:

"We danced back to Wyvern just before the massacre."

There was a pain, deep in his chest, and Lex had to set down  
clumsily; Nash landed beside him, wrapped in his own wings. From  
time to time, when his thief of a memory would steal back to that  
awful night, his vision would blur, and it would be hard to think, or  
breathe, or feel anything but loss, emptiness.

He hadn't imagined that anyone could have a worse memory than that  
of waking, coming out of the rookery, finding the cracked corpses of  
everyone he'd loved.

"You'd better tell me," he said. Nash shook his head. "Please."

The younger gargoyle looked off into the sky. His gaze fixated on a  
point, as though he was reading what to say in the unseen stars.  
When he spoke, his voice was in a whisper.

"It was two nights before the final attack. We, um, danced in a few  
miles away. Dad recognized the territory, and as we approached the  
castle, he saw the Vikings, and knew when we'd arrived. He made the  
three of us make camp well out of sight from the castle proper, and he  
went in alone. I don't know why.

"When he came back to where we hid, he looked like death. I mean,  
there we were, and there wasn't a damned thing he could do to stop  
what was coming. I think he was in shock. I guess that was why he  
never noticed he was being followed, and by the time Mom spotted  
her in the shadows, she'd already heard too much."

"Her?" Lex asked, knowing that he did not want to know, that  
memory was best served warm and hazy and distant. Nash gave a  
quick description, and Lex's mind pulled up a picture of the gargoyle:  
golden-orange and horned and shy, someone he'd always liked.

"I can stop," Nash said, seeing the pain on Lex's face.

_Brooklyn lived this. I can listen._ "Go on."

"Dad didn't know what to say at first. He explained what was going  
to happen, and of course, she wanted to tell the clan. And we all  
knew that wouldn't help, because you can't change history. Ever.

"She asked him, finally, what he'd seen when you guys woke up the  
next night, if he'd recognized anyone. She was grasping at straws,  
and then Mom gave her one. Mom asked Dad if he'd seen any of the  
hatchlings among the dead, and Dad said that he couldn't recall.

"And Mom said, and the other gargoyle agreed, that if some of the  
clan survived without Dad's knowledge of it, then as far as anyone  
knew, history wasn't being changed.

"And Dad said okay.

"It wasn't too hard gathering the hatchlings. Tachi went into the play  
area, and I went in after her, and the other gargoyle helped us coax as  
many as we could away from the castle, and back to our hiding place.

"We got twenty-seven hatchlings. We couldn't take them all at once  
without arousing suspicions, and we didn't have much time before  
sunrise. About half and half were six and sixteen. After we had the  
last few that we were gonna get, the other gargoyle went back to the  
castle. I think she was going to try to warn people anyway. I don't  
think it mattered."

"No," said Lex, subdued.

"Dad went out the next night, after you guys woke up and went after  
the Vikings." _Before Goliath came back alone,_ thought Lex.  
"I was supposed to stay with Mom and the hatchlings, but I followed  
Dad. He went through the castle, picking up shards of stone. He  
picked up what was left of someone's face, and kissed it on the  
forehead. And then," Nash swallowed.

"Don't," Lex said, placing a hand on his nephew's shoulder. "Let it  
go."

Nash didn't hear him. "It was a hand, a little claw, no bigger than  
Tachi's. And he started to cry. I went over to him, and he tried to  
hide it, tried to be mad at me for following him, but he kept holding  
that little hand. So I told him the only thing I could think of, that we'd  
gotten twenty-seven.

"And then we heard the approach of the horses, the humans, and we  
had to leave the dead where they were."

"What happened to the hatchlings?"

"We danced out with them when the Gate came. The next jump took  
us to a clan in India, late 1800's I think. They'd lost most of their eggs  
in an accident, and there we were with twenty-seven hatchlings who  
needed a clan. Funny, huh?"

"So they might still be alive?"

"Or their kids, yeah. I think Dad wants to look them up some time,  
but not yet. I don't think he could handle it yet."

Nash looked up. The stars were mostly hidden by the city lights.  
"We can't change the past. If Dad says Delilah's alive, she is. He  
knows what day she dies. I don't, Mom doesn't, Tachi doesn't. Just  
Dad. And he knows we can't stop it any more than we could rewrite  
that night at Wyvern."

Lex stopped. "No."

"What do you mean, no?"

"I mean, no. I won't accept that."

"Lex, it's the future. I've seen it. It will happen."

"But maybe what you and your dad know is just a piece of what will  
happen. Maybe it looks like she dies, like it looked like the  
hatchlings died, when in reality, you saved them."

Nash shook his head. "Not on this."

Lex took his shoulders. "Is there a possibility? Is there one chance  
that you're wrong, that things can be changed without changing the  
future? One chance, Nash, just one." He pleaded with his eyes, his  
heart. "Just say there's a remote possibility that you're wrong."

"Remote," said Nash. "Unimaginably remote."

"But there's a chance."

"Lex, it's famous." Nash was apologetic almost. "It's not even a  
million-to-one chance."

"But it's a chance. Come on." he hopped onto the back of a bench,  
and onto a tree. Nash scampered up behind him as he checked the  
wind and then caught a current.

"What's the hurry?"

"You just gave 'Lilah one chance to live. Let's not waste it talking."

VVVVV

The room buzzed with excitement. Thailog could feel the crackle of  
anticipation from every human seated below him, rising from them  
like an acrid stink.

Castaway placed tiny figurines on the oversized drawing of the  
theatre.

"Harper, Jones, you'll be in position here. Stanley, you'll be here.  
Eddings, Marsh, here. Johansen, here. Davidson and Wells, here."  
The man's eyes gleamed in his madness. "The rest of us will take  
positions outside," he added more figures to the perimeter, "here,  
here, and here.

"At nine o'clock precisely, our point person," he added a figure to the  
center of the theatre, "will give the signal to Stanley," he tapped the  
figurine standing at the concession counter. "Mayhem will ensue.  
Our goal is to conduct an orderly evacuation of the theatre. Our point  
person will help evacuate the children to this location. I will wait  
outside, and dash heroically in to rescue the last few children."

There were nods of agreement at the plan. Castaway saw no flaws in  
it, and they probably didn't either. Thailog himself saw many, but as  
he intended to exploit them, he saw no reason to point these out to the  
Quarrymen.

The fundraiser was to benefit the Children's Hospital. The usual  
celebrities and guests would be on hand, cash would be flowing freely  
into the charitable coffers, and from eight-thirty to nine, cute moppets  
were scheduled to entertain everyone with a disgustingly adorable  
song-and-dance. The Quarrymen were already setting small smoke  
bombs all around the theatre; being on the security force helped  
immeasurably.

"Mr. Castaway?" One of the pawns raised his hand. "I know we're  
planning on blaming the gargoyles for this, but how are we sure  
people will believe us?"

"Because," said Thailog, gliding down from his perch, "that's  
precisely what I'm going to tell them."

There were gasps and squeals. Chairs flew back as Quarrymen  
scrambled for cover. A few, Thailog noted, did brandish their  
hammers and advance upon him.

Castaway dashed in front of him, holding up his arms. "Wait! My  
friends, this is an ally."

"What?"

"Him?"

"A gargoyle!"

"It's him! Goliath!"

Thailog hid his sigh. These really were deeply stupid people.

Castaway explained, "Thailog has the same goal as we. He is not a  
gargoyle, despite his appearance. In his soul, he is a Quarryman. He  
wants to see the end of the parasites infesting our fair city, just as we  
do."

Thailog bowed his head. He'd been practicing this speech for a while.  
"Brothers, sisters, friends. The clan of gargoyles who live in your city  
have fought and plagued me since my unfortunate birth. I have no  
more love for them than you do. I would gladly see them burn." He  
extended his arms. "Please. Allow me my role in this. I will claim  
responsibility for the attack, and then you will have the hearts of the  
populace on your side at last."

Fear greeted him as he spoke, and he knew it would. He could work  
with fear.

"I don't know that we should trust a race-traitor," said a woman. She  
was older than most of the people in the room, and her clothes were  
of a much finer design and fabric than the norm. She also looked  
afraid, but her hand was on her hammer, and she didn't cower.

Castaway smiled at her. "Think of Thailog as a fifth-columnist, Ms.  
Landsford. He sees the error of his people's ways and wishes to assist  
us."

The woman turned her attention back to Thailog. "We'll see about  
that."

Thailog forced himself into a smile of his own. He only had to play  
nice for a few days. Landsford had informed everyone at the  
beginning of the meeting that Xanatos would be present at the benefit,  
too. The perfect patsy to take the blame, rather than Thailog himself.  
With the stolen cash from the benefit firmly in hand, Thailog would  
light off a surprise of his own for the many Quarrymen stationed  
throughout the building, as well as his father. Planting it had merely  
required placing it with the other bombs which the Quarrymen had  
hidden, with a note from "Castaway."

_Deeply, deeply stupid._

His smiled widened and became genuine as he considered the lovely  
light he would make.

VVVVV

Demona shut down her computer for the evening. She'd been here  
too long, again, but sometimes the day-to-day activities of Nightstone  
Unlimited required late nights. Transforming in the office could be a  
problem, but it was one she dealt with when necessary.

She touched her intercom button. "Katie, I'll be going out the back  
way this evening. I'll see you in the morning."

"Yes, Ms. Destine," chirped her secretary's voice. Demona pressed  
the button again to silence the connection. Katie had seen Demona in  
her gargoyle form on a few occasions, had handled it surprisingly  
well. Demona had considered killing her the first time, the realized  
she'd have to train yet another secretary. Also, she was trying to be ...  
nicer.

Something flew by her office window, close enough to detect, far  
enough away that she didn't see who.

She glanced at her briefcase, then shrugged and left it. She hadn't be  
out for a good flight in ages. She'd tail whoever it was, give them a  
nice chase, maybe send a message back to Angela.

She frowned as she opened her window. Of course she kept tabs on  
the clan, but while she had taken note of Brooklyn's strange new  
family, she had yet to see Angela perch at the castle, even though she  
had visited Demona to ask about Thailog and the half-breed  
abomination.

With a leap and a swish, she was out and in the sky, gliding around  
the downtown buildings. She headed in the direction she'd seen the  
other gargoyle go.

Ah. This was just what she'd needed: a lovely stretch of her wing  
muscles, some fresh air. The perfect mix to clear her head of  
thoughts of ...

_Thailog!_

She snarled, feeling her eyes go crimson in rage. There was no  
confusing him with Goliath, not for Demona. She'd made love to  
both of them, and they were as different as any two gargoyles could  
be.

He was far ahead of her. She swooped to increase her speed, blood  
pounding through her veins for a good fight with the bastard. She  
wanted to rip and tear and destroy him, and ...

Angela wanted his location.

Her ex-lover had gone below to the bowels of the city where his false  
clan hid with Maza's mutated brother. Thailog had stolen away his  
little half-breed, and Angela was desperate to find her, so desperate  
she had even come to Demona for help.

If Demona could bring information about his current hide-hole to her  
daughter, Angela would be pleased.

The impulse to win her daughter's affections fought with her desire to  
kill him, and too her desire not to do anything to benefit the  
abomination. As she debated, she glided in pursuit, just out of his  
sight.

He stopped at a warehouse. She perched a fair distance away and  
watched him go in, waiting until he emerged. He carried a package in  
his arms. Another flight, this to a small office building in another part  
of town. A briefer wait this time, and he left without the package.  
Curious.

The impulse to kill him rose again. She quelled it. Angela wanted  
information. Angela would love her if she brought information. Yes.

The third flight was to a pre-war building overlooking the East River.  
He landed at the balcony to the penthouse suite and let himself in.  
Demona suspected she'd found his hideout, but waited until almost  
sunrise to make certain. He didn't come out again.

She noted the location for later, and then flew off in search of her own  
home and rest. She could tell Angela after sunset.

VVVVV

"My dear," said Thailog, "my plans are coming together."

"Yes, Master," 'Lilah said, not looking up from her doll.

Her master nodded at her, then called the security forces he gave lots  
of money to so that they could protect them during the day. The  
alarm would surround the penthouse, and the men would have guns  
on the roof, and no one could get in while they were stone.

Master drifted the curtain open narrowly.

"I can't help but wonder what that bitch thinks she's doing."

"Master?"

He waved his arm. "Demona. I thought I'd lost her, but she's across  
the street watching us." Master sighed. "After my affairs are in order  
tonight, I will come back for you. You will need to be ready to leave  
as soon as I arrive. Do you understand?"

She nodded. _Go?_ 'Lilah didn't want to go. She hated it here,  
hated the close walls and never getting to spread her wings. She hid  
her face away in the doll's pretty dress so he wouldn't see her face.  
She hated him — oh! how her heart raced to dare think such a thing!  
— and she hated the Game and she wanted to be anywhere else.

But she wasn't stupid. Master meant they would leave the city  
entirely. As long as they were here, 'Lilah had hope curled up inside  
her like a little baby caterpillar in a cocoon. Maggie and Elisa and  
Boo and Banky and Brent and Holly and Talon and Angela might find  
her here. If Master took her far away, they'd never find her, never  
ever.

She wanted to fly away. Master always locked the doors when he left,  
locked her in, but maybe he would forget tonight, maybe please  
maybe.

She hid her face away further. Thinking about flying away was bad.  
Every single night, he held her and he kissed her and he told her that  
if she ever ran away, he would set a great big bomb in the Labyrinth  
and blow everyone up, and he'd make her watch when he did, and  
then he'd lock her in her little room and set her wings on fire.

Master Thailog finished what he was working on. She could tell  
because he stopped typing on his computer. She stiffened, tried not  
to, tried instead to smooth out the creases in her doll's ruffled pink  
dress.

"Come here, Delilah," he said.

She set down the doll. Pretending she hadn't heard him would only  
make it worse. She got to her feet, draped her wings around herself,  
and walked over to where he still sat in his computer chair.

"That's my good girl," he said. He grabbed her wrist and jerked her  
down to her knees. Then he kissed her, carefully, tenderly, his free  
hand threading through her hair.

She closed her eyes. In her bones she felt the prickle of sunrise fast  
approaching. Boldly, she kissed him back, felt his smile under her  
lips as she pressed her body against his, scratching her own free claws  
delicately against the side of his scarred face. She bit his lower lip as  
he squeezed her wrist more tightly.

She'd pay for this later. By enticing him, playing the Game with him,  
she was actually postponing the moment of their coupling. Were she  
to shy away from him, like every bit of her wanted to do as he petted  
her hair, Master would force her down to the carpet right now.  
Instead, she continued kissing him, stroking his face and chest, and  
she felt it even from here inside her dark prison: the sun racing over  
the horizon.

After, when the sun ran away again, they would awaken from their  
sleep, and if she was quick enough, she could dash into the small  
kitchen and make a great fuss about cooking him food. Sometimes he  
would forget about finishing the Game.

She wasn't very quick, though, and even when she was, he didn't often  
forget.

As she pulled back from him, felt the stone claiming her, 'Lilah knew  
that for today at least, she could sleep and be free.

VVVVV

Broadway roared as he woke from his stone slumber. The last pieces  
of his daily shell flew from him littering the tower, and he yawned.

Another night, another evening of searching. The long hours were  
wearing on everyone. Not a one of them hadn't snapped at the rest in  
the past month, even the children; Alex and Tachi fought over  
everything until he was put to bed, every night.

Still.

Angela was home. Even if "home" meant she was yet in the  
Labyrinth, two months after delivering their egg, weeks after the  
departure of her sisters for Avalon. She was in the city, out patrolling  
with the clones, trying to find a clue, any clue, to Thailog's location.

More to the point, tonight, she was patrolling with him.

He rushed through fixing breakfast for the clan, burning most of the  
toast and the bacon in his haste. Thank the Dragon most of the clan  
liked their bacon crispy.

After food, Broadway nodded through the explanation of where he  
was supposed to be searching tonight, then hopped up to his favorite  
parapet and flew off in search of his mate, excitement fluttering  
through him.

It wasn't that he didn't care. He did. He liked Delilah. She was sweet  
and she was pretty, and given a chance, Broadway would love to rip  
out Thailog's liver and feed it to him deep-fried with onions and  
asparagus. He'd even consider doing the same to Sevarius, whose  
programming made the clone. As for Xanatos ...

Broadway dipped slightly, frowning.

Xanatos was harder. So much had changed since they had first  
awakened in this world. Ever since Alexander's birth, Xanatos had  
acted as their ally. He'd returned their home to them, given Broadway  
and Lex jobs, provided every resource he could muster. But Xanatos  
had created Thailog, too, and his own personality and desires were  
just as much a part of the clone's makeup as Goliath's were.

In a way, Xanatos was more responsible than Sevarius for Thailog's  
misdeeds, which meant the blame for everything that was happening  
now rested at his feet, too.

Goliath hadn't told Xanatos what had happened. Every night, they  
patrolled and they searched, but while the wealthiest man in the  
country lived in the same house, they hadn't asked his aid because  
Goliath didn't quite trust him, and Broadway couldn't blame him.

Goliath said Angela had to stay in the Labyrinth with the Mutates and  
clones in order to fool Thailog into thinking they had fewer warriors  
looking for him. But Broadway thought that made no sense, that  
Thailog would know they'd send every weapon they had at him,  
regardless. It wasn't Thailog whom Goliath wasn't sure of, it was  
Xanatos. What would he do if he knew about the clones, who were  
already pre-programmed to obey? More, what would he do if he  
knew about the rookery they kept there, filled with the precious future  
of the clan and just waiting for a strong, guiding hand?

Angela's body was almost completely recovered from carrying and  
delivering their egg, and Broadway had a hunch that as soon as she  
was, Goliath would allow her back to the castle, with a warning to  
keep her silence on certain topics. So many things Goliath didn't  
want Xanatos to know about, and so he kept their forces divided and  
hidden.

Broadway wondered, in the pit of his stomach, what that lack of trust  
was going to cost them in the end.

"My love!"

He turned with a grin. Angela waved to him from the top of their  
favorite building. He landed and drew her into his arms with a laugh  
and a kiss.

They couldn't stay like this, not here, not anywhere. They had a job to  
do, and it would rob them of the little time they might otherwise have  
shared. Reluctantly, he pulled away from her, leaving soft kisses on  
the tips of her talons.

"Time to go hunting," she said with a sigh of her own.

They went aloft, not quite touching as they glided, but drifting close  
enough to brush their wings from time to time, scouring the city as  
they went. They fought and they chatted, filling each other in on the  
gossip above and below as they beat up would-be criminals. A  
mugger had a bad night while Broadway related that Xanatos and Fox  
were out at some benefit tonight; an armed robber got a mild  
concussion as Angela caught him up on how the clones were  
progressing in their training.

No sign of Thailog or Delilah.

He started, "Maybe we should ... "

"Mother?"

His head flipped around, and he almost fell out of the air in his shock.  
"Demona!"

The blue gargoyle approached them in the air, but circumspectly. He  
didn't see any weapons on her, which didn't mean she had none.

"Daughter. Broadway."

Angela demanded, "What do you want?"

"It's not about what I want. It's about what you want."

Broadway drifted between them, guarding his mate. "We don't want  
anything from you."

Demona smirked. "Tonight you do. I found Thailog's hideaway. Of  
course, if you don't want to know where it is ... "

"You're lying," said Broadway.

Angela pushed past him. "Where is he?"

"Come with me, and I'll show you."

Broadway said, "We're not going anywhere with you. Just give us the  
location."

Demona turned to him. "I didn't invite you along regardless. I will  
show Angela."

"Over my dead body."

Angela sighed. "Broadway, don't give her ideas." She turned to her  
mother. "All right."

Broadway gasped. "What! You can't trust her, Angela."

"I can take care of myself. If she's right, I'll call for backup and we  
can get Delilah home tonight." He noticed Demona's wince as Angela  
said the name, and his fear grew.

"She's not going to help. She's just here to confuse you, or take you  
away from us. She always has an angle."

Demona snorted. "Of course I do. And my 'angle' is that my daughter  
wants something which I alone can give her. Therefore, I'm going to  
give it to her."

Angela flew back to him and kissed his cheek as he closed his eyes.  
"I'll be back soon. I've got the phone. If you haven't heard from me  
within an hour, call." She whispered against his ear so that Demona  
couldn't hear: "It's got a tracking device in it."

He nodded. Then he spat at Demona: "If you hurt her, I'll kill you."  
Demona arched her eyebrow. Broadway continued, "And when you  
get better, I'll kill you again and again and again. I've got a bigger  
imagination than you'd think. I'll keep it from being boring." He  
growled at her, his eyes blazing white. "Understand?"

Demona laughed at him. "You may make a better mate for her than I  
thought. I will not allow her to be harmed. Come, Angela." She flew  
back several yards. "Unless you don't _want_ to know where  
they are."

Angela looked at Broadway once more, than followed her mother.  
Broadway stared after them until they were out of sight.

And then, being very careful to stay out of sight, he followed them.

VVVVV


	2. Chapter 2

VVVVV  
Consequences Part Six: Found and Lost (2/3)  
a Gargoyles story  
by Merlin Missy  
Copyright 2005  
PG-15  
VVVVV

"Are you sure this is the place?" Angela looked around nervously.  
The building she clung to loomed over the East River. It was the sort  
of exclusive complex that looked none too friendly to the notion of  
claw marks on the masonry.

"Tell me what you see." Her mother watched her. Angela took  
another look. She saw nothing unusual, at first. The brick building  
was the tallest in the complex, fourteen storeys and a penthouse with  
a ledge all the wall 'round. "Think like a human," her mother said  
impatiently.

And then she noticed.

Upset the neighborhood might be at the intrusion, but there were  
already prolific claw marks on the bricks, almost disguised by the ivy  
climbing and clinging everywhere. Someone landed here regularly, or  
fell and climbed their way up. She hadn't noticed; every building she  
was in or around had them in abundance as well.

"A gargoyle has been here," she said cautiously.

"Thailog," said Mother. "Unless Goliath has taken up a new  
residence I don't know about."

"No." Angela craned her neck up to the balcony. _Might as well  
do this._ "Let's go up."

They climbed the rest of the way to the balcony, then crouched behind  
its protective wall for safety. Angela remained near the ledge as her  
mother crept to the door.

"Locked."

"Can you get in?"

Mother showed her talons. "I've broken into harder places. Do we  
care if he knows we were here?"

Angela swallowed. "No."

Mother nodded, and ripped into the wall beside the door. Moments  
later, Angela joined her, and together, they quickly made a hole.

"Thailog's going to be very annoyed when he sees this," Mother  
remarked. "Good. After you."

Angela hesitated, then shimmied through the opening. The room  
inside was pitch black. There were no windows, and she fumbled in  
the dark for a light even as her mother slithered through beside her.

Her fingers found the switch, but her mother stopped her.

"If I were him, I'd have an alarm set to go off if the lights were  
activated when I wasn't home."

"Really?"

Mother nodded in the darkness; Angela heard the movement of the  
air. Then there was a click, and a beam of light came from Mother's  
hand. "So I brought this."

The flashlight illuminated the room in swathes: a sumptuous couch  
and cushiony chairs, exquisite life-sized statues, monitors and  
electronics shining tiny green lights, a dining nook.

No Delilah.

"Dammit," said Angela. "If this is Thailog's place, where's 'Lilah?"

VVVVV

The noise had scared her. Ripping stone and metal beneath claws was  
not a sound she ever wanted to hear again. Delilah had buried her  
head under her pillows, and wished for it to go away.

The noise went away.

Then there were voices. She knew the voices, from forever ago.  
Demona was there, and she was bad, but Angela was there too, and  
she had to get away. If she was very quiet, maybe they'd go away, and  
they wouldn't be found when Master Thailog got back.

But she didn't want them to go away.

"Blast," said Demona from outside. "He must have moved her."

Angela said, "Maybe we can find a clue to where he's taken her."

"We shouldn't stay long. He could be back any time."

She heard Angela let out a sigh. "I have to find her."

"You won't find anyone if you're dead."

Dead. Something Master Thailog had told her before he'd left rung  
back at her, something that had made her cold inside, had woken her  
from the sleepiness she felt in her head all the time any more.

Dead. People were going to be dead.

"Angela?" Her voice came out as barely a whisper. Master didn't like  
it when she talked much, and even as she spoke, she cringed, knowing  
that somehow, he'd know. "Angela!" Again, she was too soft.

"All right," said Angela from outside. "We'll go."

Go? No! They had to hear! They had to know! Dead!

Her fingers reached out in the dark he kept her in when he wasn't  
home, found her hairbrush. She seized it, beat it at the door. She  
missed, hitting only the air, and she drew her arm back, thudded it  
against the door hard.

"Hush," said Demona.

Angela said, "'Lilah, honey, is that you?"

"Angela?" She couldn't be sure they could hear, so she struck the  
door again and again, tears flowing from her eyes. She was bad, so  
bad, and he would punish her.

"Delilah, stop hitting the door," said Angela, from right outside. Her  
arm went limp, numb from what she'd done, and she dropped the  
brush. "Are you okay? Can you talk?"

She tried clearing her throat. "La la la." A croak emerged. She  
coughed, and then louder, "La la la! Angela?"

"'Lilah." Angela sounded sad, like she was crying.

"Angela, you okay?"

"I'm okay. We're going to get you out of there. Stand back."

"Angela, I don't know if this is a good idea," said Demona.

"Then you can leave." Claws struck the wall beside the door, and dug  
a hole. After a minute, 'Lilah could see light shining through. Her  
paralysis broke, and she clawed at the hole from her side, digging for  
the light, for Angela. She was tired, so tired, but she dug all the same.

When the hole was big enough, Angela stopped digging and tugged at  
her hands. "C'mon, it's time to go."

'Lilah drew back. "Can't go," she said. "Gotta tell you."

"Tell us when we're away from here," said Demona.

"No! Master Thailog, going to ... " The words slipped from her. All  
her words had been slipping away, even since he'd taken her away  
from her brothers and Maggie and Talon.

"Going to punish you?" She'd expected Angela to say it, not Demona,  
and not in such a bitter voice.

"Yes. No. Worse. People. Many people dead. Going to kill them."

"Who?" Angela asked. "Who's going to kill them?"

"Thailog!"

"How?" Angela continued to dig, widening the hole.

"He said, he said. Bomb. Small bomb, big boom. Um." She went  
through her swimming memory. Three letters poked back at her.  
"HMX?"

Demona swore. "When and where?"

"Tonight."

"Do you remember where he is?" asked Angela.

"No. Someplace." She started playing with her arms. "Benny fit?"

"Benefit?" asked Angela, something in her voice that scared 'Lilah a  
lot.

"Yeah."

"Oh hell." She grabbed 'Lilah's hand through the hole. "We have to  
go now."

"Can't. You go."

"'Lilah, this isn't open for discussion."

"Leave her," said Demona. "There isn't time."

"Mother, I'm not leaving without her."

"I would. Do you know why?"

"Yes," said Angela harshly.

Demona shook her head, and the flashlight wiggled. "You don't. I'd  
leave her because she's stupid." 'Lilah drew back. "She doesn't get  
that Thailog is demented, that he's evil, that he doesn't love her."

"He says ... " said 'Lilah.

"He says what?" asked Demona of her, mocking. "That he's sorry?  
That at least the bruises will heal by the next night? That you  
deserved them for talking too loud?" She was shouting, and 'Lilah  
recoiled even more into the shadows. "He used to be my lover, too,  
remember? He hurts people. He hurt me. He hurt you. He's going to  
hurt hundreds of humans tonight, and you're too stupid to leave when  
we're offering you a way out." She turned away, taking the light with  
her. "Come on, Angela. We have work to do."

"He," 'Lilah stammered, "Not gonna stop looking for me. Not ever.  
He said."

"And we'll always be there if he does," said Angela. She held her  
hand through the hole in the wall. "We love you, Delilah." Demona  
made a noise. "Well, I love you, and Talon loves you, and Maggie  
loves you, and Elisa and Goliath love you, and your brothers love  
you."

"We don't have time for this," said Demona.

"'Lilah, we have to go. It's now or never."

Angela pulled her hand back from the hole. It made a dark shadow  
against the receding light, and then ...

Too many dark nights, locked in her room. Too many times playing  
the Game. Too many times drifting into a half-slumber because it  
was so easy, only to be jarred awake by the sound of his wings  
brushing the walls outside her room.

'Lilah squealed and darted her own hand through the hole, toward the  
light, blindly clutched to Angela's hand. For a second, she thought  
Angela would let go, then felt a soft squeeze, and the entwining of her  
sister's fingers in her own.

"I wanna go home," 'Lilah sniffed.

"Okay," said Angela, very softly, and helped her out into the light.

VVVVV

Angela watched her mother out of the corner of her eye, making sure  
she wasn't going to "accidentally" crush Delilah's skull with her mace  
or similar. As they emerged from the penthouse through the hole  
they'd made, Angela saw a large winged form, and immediately went  
into attack mode.

Half a second later, his hands in the air placatingly, she recognized the  
form of her mate.

"What are you doing here?" she hissed.

"Making sure you were all right with her," he shrugged as Demona  
came out of the building. 'Lilah came out last, and with a cry of joy,  
he ran to her and hugged her like a long-lost sister.

Angela didn't miss Delilah's flinch as he touched her, and she  
suspected Broadway didn't either, as he immediately let go.

Angela stepped between them, noting that 'Lilah relaxed just that  
much. She pulled out her phone and checked for a signal. Then she  
pressed "2."

Moments later, Elisa answered: "Maza here."

"It's Angela. We found her."

"What! Is she all right? Are you all right?"

"She's ... " Angela glanced at 'Lilah. The clone stared around,  
blinking at the two of them, at the night. She cowered and she was  
too thin, and she wore a hunted look on her face. "She's alive. Elisa,  
we've got another problem, a big one."

VVVVV

"Look," said the chick with the badge. "You have _got_ to  
evacuate that building. I've had a call that there's a bomb ready to go  
off any minute."

Peterson looked the chick up and down: disheveled black hair, red  
jacket, jeans, and a badge that said she was a cop. Of course, any  
joker off the street could flash a badge and pretend to be a cop.

"Now listen, Officer," he said, holding his hands before him  
helplessly. "I'll need to contact your precinct and confirm your  
identity."

"There isn't time!" she insisted. "People are gonna die if you don't  
act!"

She sounded so confident, Peterson considered pulling the alarm right  
then and there, something about her tone, her passion, her seven-foot-  
tall gargoyle rapidly losing patience behind her.

"All right," he said, and turned to his backup. "Harper, can you watch  
the ... " Harper was nowhere to be seen. "Harper?" _Ah, dammit.  
Where did he go?_

VVVVV

Harper had bailed as soon as he'd seen the gargoyle. He'd never  
gotten over his initial fear of the damned things, no matter how much  
he tried to hide it from the rest of the guys in the group.

_Haveta tell Mr. Castaway,_ he thought. _They know. They  
know._

Castaway was nowhere to be seen. Harper tried to remember where  
the boss was supposed to be during the plan, but he hadn't been  
paying attention. He'd known he and a bunch of the guys were getting  
jobs as security here at the theatre, and that when everything went  
down, they were supposed to help rescue and protect the people, get  
'em outside.

He was running now, and almost smacked into a woman headed to  
the Powder Room. "Oh, 'scuze me, ma'am." Then he recognized her.  
"Oh, hey Ms. Landsford."

Her eyes narrowed. "Do I know you?"

"If you're here tonight for the same reason I am," Harper said in what  
he thought was a prudent fashion.

Her eyes traced his face. "Oh, yes." She pulled his arm, and said  
close to his ear. "I really think it would be best if we pretended not to  
know one another. For the cause."

"Right. The cause." As she went to move away, he said, "But Ms. L.,  
we gotta problem. There's one of them in the lobby, and _they  
know_," he whispered.

She went pale. "Are you certain?"

"They have a cop, who's says they got a bomb threat."

Ms. Landsford looked away for a sec, then asked him, "Do you know  
who has the remote?" He nodded. "Tell him to do it. Better ahead of  
schedule than never."

"Can do." Harper worked well with orders.

As Ms. L. hurried on her way, Harper retraced his steps back to the  
main lobby. As he reached the concession stand, he nodded to Stan,  
whom he'd known from way back, and gave him the signal. Stan  
didn't respond, and Harper went to the snack counter. "Blow it," he  
said. "Ms. L. gave me the go ahead."

"It's early."

"It's now or never."

Stan shrugged, and pulled out a small remote. Their eyes met as  
Stan's thumb made contact.

VVVVV

When the first bomb went off, everything in David's instincts told him  
to dive for cover, save himself. He grabbed Fox, or rather, went to  
grab for Fox, but she was already down between the seats, pulling  
him down with her.

They communicated without speaking. Fox inclined her head to the  
source of the smoke and light, and then frowned, making a slight  
crease in her pretty forehead. He bowed, as he always did, to her  
superior knowledge of firearms and explosives, and read in her  
expression that whatever this was, it wasn't the real thing.

The people around them screamed and stampeded towards the exits.  
On the stage, the director for the children was fighting a losing battle  
for their attention.

David surveyed the room. No one seemed interested in the kids on  
the stage, some of whom had started to cry. He nodded to his wife.

Fox tossed off her shoes and stepped nimbly onto the back of her  
chair. As though she were dancing, she tiptoed her way towards the  
front of the room. He followed her less easily, amazed as ever at her  
grace.

Fox reached the stage first, and put on her best kiddie show star smile  
for the children. None of them seemed to recognize her, but as David  
finally joined them, they had quieted at her presence. The director  
gave them both a mute look of gratitude.

"Now we're all going to grab hands and go for a walk," Fox was  
saying. The kids obediently lined up, hand in hand, forming a chain  
across the stage. David took the hand of the last child, a boy of  
maybe seven or eight, and smiled warmly.

"Time to go," said Fox, and started leading the children from the stage  
towards the exit. Another smoke bomb went off — David recognized  
the flash for what it was this time — and some of the kids faltered,  
started to cry again. The director went to the crying kids, and took  
their hands separately. Fox continued to lead the way.

"Train coming through!" she said brightly. "Kids, can you make the  
sound like train does?"

"Choo-choo!" went up a few enthusiastic voices. The rest looked  
around themselves dumbly, being more dragged than anything by the  
hand of the child before.

Another bomb detonated close by, and David scooped up the two  
nearest kids to him, while Fox tugged hard on the first child in the  
chain.

"Oh, I don't think so," said a voice he knew.

David turned, kids still in his arms. June Landsford had pulled a tiny  
but serviceable pistol from her purse and pointed it his way. "Put the  
children down, David. We don't want them to get hurt."

"David ... " Fox said.

"Get them out of here," he said, placing the children down gently.  
"Scoot," he told them.

Landsford wiggled the pistol towards Fox, and waved her over. "You  
too, dearie." She nodded to the director. "Get those kids to safety.  
These are the bastards who set the bombs."

_WHAT?_

The director turned even paler, and herded the children away from  
David and Fox, out towards the exits. Around them, people still  
moved and screamed. No one paid attention to the madwoman with  
the gun.

"We didn't set the bombs," said David.

Landsford shrugged. "Ask me how many people will believe you  
when your precious gargoyles take responsibility for this terrible  
action."

"They're not stupid," said Fox. She looked at him and tilted her head.  
_You go that way,_ she was telling him.

He blinked his eyes in response. _Done._

"No, but most people in this city are, and they want to believe."

"Really, June," David said, "The hood and hammer are out this year  
as fashion accessories." _Ready._

"The Quarrymen are not the most noble of souls, it's true, but we have  
the noblest of ambitions. We must protect our own." She clicked the  
safety. "Traitors to the species must be destroyed."

The blast was silent. Before David could move, before Fox could  
scream, Landsford generated a strange look of surprise as her chest  
imploded, and then she was dead.

"I quite agree," said Thailog, keeping his toy trained on them as  
Landsford had done.

_Good-bye, frying pan,_ thought David.

VVVVV

Angela and Demona landed on the roof, Broadway and the clone a  
moment after them. Demona looked over the edge, saw the humans  
running for cover. "Maza got the call out, I see."

She looked back at the abomination. "Do you know where the bomb  
is?" Delilah nodded. "Get it, and get it out of there, understood?"

"Okay."

"Angela, Broadway, get as many humans as you can out of the  
building. Leave Thailog to us."

"Mother ... "

"I don't want you near him." _I don't want you in the vicinity if the  
bomb detonates._ "Go!"

Angela placed a careful hand on the clone's shoulder. "Dragon's luck,  
sister." She glided off the rooftop and broke through a window  
belching smoke.

Demona watched her go, then smashed her fist through the skylight.  
"Coming?"

They slithered their way through the rafters silently. The one thing,  
the only thing, she could give Thailog's playtoy: it could follow  
orders. They quickly made their way to the light fixtures above the  
auditorium proper.

Below them, humans screamed and scurried like rats from a sinking  
ship. Momentarily, Demona considered simply killing the clone and  
letting Thailog's bomb go off. A few less humans in the world  
wouldn't be a bad thing.

And she saw him.

Her last lover, dark as night, hair like snow, standing with a particle  
beam weapon aimed at Xanatos and his bitch. She heard Thailog say:

"My little minions blew the plan. They were supposed to wait until  
nine to set off their charges. Mine would have gone off ten minutes  
before, and," he chuckled, "it's a bit more powerful than theirs.  
Decapitated corpses, bodies littering the stage, oh, how I love the  
theatre."

Xanatos said, "I suppose it's pointless to say you're mad."

Thailog chuckled again. "Doesn't matter anyway. I would have loved  
to have seen you blown to shreds, father of mine. But this will be  
even more interesting."

He changed his aim to Fox. "Shall I kill her all at once, or just blow  
off a limb at a time?" He aimed. "Let's try potluck."

"No," said Delilah softly.

Had she considered it, Demona could never have given a concrete  
reason why the thought of Thailog blasting a human, especially the  
vapid wife of her one-time ally, would fill her with rage. As she saw  
him take aim, something inside her cracked, and with a roar, she  
dove, claws extended.

The human woman was bright enough to get out of the way, and she  
and Xanatos bolted for retreat as Demona's talons ripped into  
Thailog's back. She scraped him, tore away the gun from them both,  
and fell back.

Stalemate.

From above her, she saw Delilah fall from the lights towards the  
stage, start ripping up fine wood paneling.

Thailog turned at the noise.

"DELILAH, STOP THAT THIS INSTANT!" His bellow shook the  
auditorium, and slammed into the young gargoyle like a fist. She  
turned frightened eyes on him, and took two steps back from the  
stage.

"That's better," he said, clutching his wounded shoulder. "Now get  
over here and help me kill your mother." When she stayed where she  
was, he shouted, "NOW!"

Demona readied her attack, noting as she did the large satchel near  
Thailog's feet, and she knew the rest of his plan, the same as always:  
get the cash and burn the evidence. She wondered if he was even  
going to come back for his toy in the locked room, or if he would  
have left her to starve.

The toy remained where she was, taut as a fiddle string, and vibrating  
with the effort of not giving into his command, as surely every fiber  
of her programming instructed her to do.

The auditorium was almost empty of humans now. Demona swished  
her tail. Angela loved that half-human abomination, called her  
"sister," called her "friend," while barely trusting her own mother.

_Mother._ The thing had called her "Mother," that night in the  
park.

"Delilah," she said, enunciating the hated name. "I am not your  
mother. You do not belong to me. You don't belong to him, either.  
You want to belong to something, belong to that egg of yours. Don't  
do something because he tells you." She turned to Thailog, locked  
eyes with his. "Do it because your child needs you to."

With a cry, Demona vaulted towards him, was met halfway with his  
teeth. The girl quivered for another second, and then took the two  
steps back to the stage in running strides, leapt up, and came down  
with her powerful legs, shattering the polished wood.

Thailog snarled, but Demona gave him more important things to  
concern himself with than a stupid little half-breed struggling with  
something beneath the stage, as the flat of her hand connected with  
his jaw, spinning him hard around.

She kicked him in the ribs twice, and then was pulled off her feet by  
his tail. In an instant, he had his gun back and was pointing it at her  
head.

"I really do wish you and Macbeth would settle things. This will be  
sadly impermanent." She rolled just before the blast destroyed the  
section of flooring beneath her.

Her tail locked onto the satchel, and she tossed it well into the sea of  
seats. "Go find your money, if you have the time. It's eight forty-  
eight," she snarled. "I'll survive the explosion. What about you?"

Thailog regarded his watch for a moment, looked to Delilah, who had  
just lugged an oversized egg-shaped device from the ruins of the stage  
and was attempting to drag it out of the auditorium.

He swore. "Another time, then, my sweets," he said, and blasted at  
her again. She ducked, and dove for him, wrestled for the gun.

"You're not going anywhere," she said, and then he was above her,  
and she was left holding nothing but the gun, as his tail zipped out the  
nearest door.

Demona snarled and hurled the weapon aside. "Let's get that thing  
out of ... Delilah?" She was faster than she looked — both bomb and  
abomination were gone.

VVVVV

Jon's brain twisted and crackled and popped and buzzed. Ideas,  
always ideas, rattling around, edging each other out for dominance  
like pups squirming for a teat.

Kill the gargoyles, yes. Hurt them. Make them pay.

_Jason ... _

The smoke filled the air in front of him, and June was supposed to be  
leading children out for him to rescue more, but all he could see was  
Jason's collapsed form, superimposed over his father's body falling  
from the sky.

He had to ...

He had to go inside.

Jon pushed his way past the people who screamed and fled, looking  
for the main theatre. Find the children, bring them out, blame the  
gargoyles, and then the shouts in his head would be stilled.

A shape loomed up over him in the stinging smoke.

"Thailog!" he said, pulling his gun automatically.

Thailog looked back over his shoulder, then growled at Jon. "You  
brought her, didn't you?" He roared, flashing his great talons.

The gargoyle was attacking him.

Jon ducked and fired wildly at the gargoyle, shot after shot, Jason's  
voice ringing in his head. Small chunks flew from the beast's flesh,  
and Jon aimed one round at its wings before, enraged, it struck him  
across the face and chest, sending him into the far wall.

Jon felt bones snap just before his head struck the wall and everything  
went dark.

VVVVV

Angela held the two human children protectively in her arms until  
they were away from the building. "You'll be safe here," she told  
them as they landed on the sidewalk across the street.

"Jenna! Ivan!" cried a woman Angela didn't know, as she scooped  
both kids into a big hug. Her eyes went to Angela. "Thank you," she  
mouthed..

"Mom! Mom!" said the boy. "We were up in the air, flying!" His  
sister nodded vigorously. "It was so cool!"

Someone screamed. Angela whipped around, and she saw Death.

Not large, perhaps the size of a watermelon, covered in wiring, with  
an LED whose numbers she couldn't make out ticking down to  
destruction, it lay heavily in 'Lilah's arms as a far too dense egg.  
Angela did not need to be told that this one was real, that Thailog  
would have bragged about it to his pet enough that she'd know just  
where to go.

Even as this registered, even as she grabbed the children and dragged  
them farther from the building, she knew there would not be enough  
room, that the people scrabbling to get away from the girl and the  
bomb were already dead.

And it seemed 'Lilah knew that too.

The younger gargoyle held the deadly egg in one arm as she thrust  
talons into the nearest column supporting the front, climbing it nimbly  
as a monkey. In moments, counted off by the moving numbers of the  
display (what did they read? how much time left?) she was at the top  
of the column, and she cast off, spreading her wings to catch the  
brittle evening air.

"Out to the river," Angela murmured, knowing her sister could not  
hear. "Drop it in the river."

'Lilah skirted the tops of the nearby buildings, on a direct course for  
water. Angela drummed the seconds in her pulse, in the beat stuck in  
her throat. 'Lilah reached the river, reached the safety point, and  
Angela chanted to herself, "Drop it, drop it, drop it, drop it drop it ... "

For months afterward, this same image would be rebroadcast on local  
and national television: a blue-white and brown angel streaking  
through the night city sky, cradling death in her arms. There would be  
a voiceover every time. The early voiceovers would explain about  
gargoyles, about their initial contacts with humans, about their  
society. For a week, no voiceover would be complete without a  
mention of how gargoyles protect their territory, their families. Later  
voiceovers would usually mark the moment as a vital footnote in  
history, the instant when humans stopped viewing this intelligent,  
noble race as mere monsters, and began to see them in a new light. It  
was an historical moment, a Pulitzer-winning video for Travis  
Marshall, an image no one alive at that time in the United States  
would ever forget.

Angela would never forget.

She would always remember the flash first, and a rush of heat, real or  
imagined, and then a deafening thunderclap. She would remember  
the tug of a child's hand on hers, and when she could hear again, she  
would remember the croak of her own voice repeating: "Drop it drop  
it drop it drop it drop it ... "

VVVVV


	3. Chapter 3

VVVVV  
Consequences Part Six: Found and Lost (3/3)  
a Gargoyles story  
by Merlin Missy  
Copyright 2005  
PG-15  
VVVVV

The explosion had sent even more people running, screaming. Elisa  
hadn't seen what had happened, was too busy corralling children and  
theatregoers and passers-by. Goliath stood near her, choosing to  
provide a large form for people to gather around in the smoke and  
dust rather than go flying blindly around for more.

In the sky and through the streets, she caught glimpses of the rest of  
the clan, of the clones, even of Derek, as they helped people find  
friends and loved ones, helped the kids from the benefit find their  
parents. Sirens blared, and within a few minutes, red and white lights  
flashed through the smoke, spotlighting everything.

Elisa watched Goliath tense, watched him fight his instinct to call for  
a retreat of the clan. Watched him stay.

Demona led a small boy to the crowd around Goliath. Elisa nodded  
to her, not completely glad to see she was all right, but grateful  
enough that she was helping.

Elisa bent down to the child, "What's your name, kiddo?"

"Ralph."

"Okay, Ralph," she said, scribbling his name with the others on the  
quick list she was keeping. "You stand right here by my friend  
Goliath, and don't move. We'll find your parents."

"Okay."

She looked up at Demona. "Thanks."

Demona shrugged. Xanatos and Fox, both covered in smoke,  
emerged from the dimness. Demona glared at them, and hurried off.  
Elisa tried not to roll her eyes.

"Hey. You two. Make yourselves useful?"

"Our wish is to serve, Detective," said Xanatos, and she really did roll  
her eyes this time.

"Fox, you did a kid show. Hang out with them. They're probably  
scared of Goliath."

Fox put on a big, sappy grin and turned to the small crowd of  
children. "Hey, kids." Goliath sighed deeply.

"Xanatos, you can help me round up the rest."

"Of course."

A shape moved out of the shadows, great and hulking. Elisa drew  
back, and then another cruiser pulled up close and in the flashing  
lights, she made out Angela, dripping wet and holding something  
equally soggy.

"Angela, what's ... "

Angela was stumbling, she realized, and shaking. "I couldn't ... I saw  
where she fell in the river. I couldn't leave her there."

Distantly, she heard Goliath order Fox to move the children away.  
She was aware of Xanatos reaching Angela first, helping her unload  
her burden to Goliath. Other forms surrounded her: more on-lookers,  
cops she'd known for years, the first of the news reporters.

Elisa's CPR training went through her head, any and all life-saving  
techniques she'd ever learned. There were ambulances on hand.  
Oxygen. Defibrillators. None of which mattered now.

McKenzie said quietly, "Maza, she looks just like you."

Elisa squeezed her eyes shut.

VVVVV

Thailog rested against a wall, fingers splayed. He caught his breath  
and assessed his injuries. Some torn ligaments and ripped skin, not  
nearly what he had been through before, possibly a broken wing from  
the gunshot. _Must find a quiet place to set it, hole up for the  
day._

Damn Delilah. Why had she been so stupid? Demona was right on  
one thing. Humans were unworthy. If a dozen died, or a thousand, so  
be it. Better them than him.

His thoughts returned to Delilah. He'd seen her from the street. She'd  
been so calm, even as she'd glided fast, faster than he'd anticipated.  
Like she was flying for fun, and she'd cradled the heavy bomb to her  
like an egg ...

_Egg. She had an egg._ Demona's rant filtered back to him  
again. Something else he'd have to worry about: getting hold of his  
son or daughter before it hatched and was corrupted by the simpering  
morals of the clan.

"So much to do," he said. He pulled out his PDA from his back  
pocket, flipped it over to make a note, and saw the casing was  
cracked, the screen dead. Disgruntled, he shoved it back into his  
pocket. He could retrieve that data later.

First things first, it was time to gather his resources, examine his  
assets, and by the way, set the damned wing. It throbbed with every  
breath. It could take several days of healing sleep.

Then he had to settle things with Castaway. The bastard had sold him  
out, and Thailog was not about to let the double-cross go unrepaid.

There was the matter of replacing Delilah. If he had sufficient capital,  
he would persuade Sevarius to work his genetic magic once more, and  
do it right this time. The process would take months and money.

Damn her again.

He would of course have to retrieve the egg, but he had ten years to  
worry about that, and could allow the Mutates to watch it for him  
until then.

There was ...

"Master?"

Thailog felt a smile spread over his face. Brentwood limped around a  
corner.

"Brentwood. You will assist me in finding a place to sleep during the  
day."

"No," said Malibu, swooping in and landing perfectly behind him.  
Thailog turned, and saw only grim determination on the other clone's  
green face.

"Malibu. I assume Burbank and Hollywood are nearby?" On cue, the  
other two walked out of the same place from which Brentwood had  
come. "At last, we're a family again."

"Not with you," said Burbank.

"You killed 'Lilah," said Brentwood, wiping his large red eyes.

"Delilah killed herself. You all saw it as well as I. And to be frank,  
wasn't it better that one die than so many?" He oiled his voice,  
wondering if he could outrun them. Only Malibu was behind him. If  
he broke the clone's neck quickly, he could go back that way.

"You made her die," said Hollywood. "We know that."

"You know nothing," Thailog spat. Was the pain in his wing never  
going to subside? "Fine, she's dead. Collateral damage. There's  
some words for you. She was stupid, and she was weak, and she died  
because she was soft. Don't make the same mistake."

At the word "soft," Malibu's head jerked.

"Monster at the end of the book," he said, slowly.

Thailog took a step, and was shadowed by Hollywood. Malibu stayed  
still, talking nonsense.

"We thought the monster was you, and we tied you up with string, and  
wood, and bricks, and you kept coming and we were scared. But the  
monster _is_ you, and you're like Grover, all soft and squishy."

"Monster?" asked Brentwood.

"Listen," said Thailog, as Burbank picked up a heavy chunk of debris  
and examined it. "I can take you away from here, teach you, train  
you."

"Monsters are bad," said Hollywood. "They hurt people. We don't  
like monsters."

"Except Grover," added Burbank. "And Elmo."

Hollywood said, "Elmo's bad. Elisa says so. I don't like him."

"What about Cookie Monster?" asked Brentwood.

"We like Cookie Monster," said Malibu. "We don't like you."

"I created you," he hissed. "Without me, you never would have been  
born."

"You made us to hurt people, and you hurt us. You hurt 'Lilah. You  
hurt everyone. You're a very bad monster, and the book is done."

He'd been expecting the rock from Burbank, and he ducked. He had  
calculated that they would most likely use projectiles. He hadn't  
expected that the only other weapons they would use were claws and  
teeth, nor that as they set upon him, they could do so employing the  
ferocity he had programmed them with so long ago.

He was larger than they, but he was weak, and they outnumbered him.  
For a spark of a moment, Thailog allowed himself to be bitterly proud  
of his sons. Then there was nothing but the agony of flesh ripping  
from other flesh, from bone, and eventually, not even that.

VVVVV

It was well after three am when Fox and David finally returned home.  
She was tired and smelly, and she wanted a shower, but more than  
anything else, Fox wanted to see that Alex was okay.

She stood in his room, watching him sleep, listening to him breathe,  
and she shivered until she shook so violently she had to collapse into  
the rocking chair by his crib. Fox had seen death before, had seen  
violent loss and broken bodies. Had caused some, too.

She'd never met the gargoyle, the one who had died. Nor had she  
previously met the other gargoyles, the ones who looked like their  
own clan but in odd colors. But she had watched them gather 'round,  
as the crowd had grown, and moved, and shifted. Even as she'd taken  
over Elisa's self-appointed task of matching up kids to parents, Fox  
had watched their faces, and Elisa's face, and Goliath's. Angela was  
still in shock.

Fox hadn't expected to see Angela there; she was supposed to be on  
Avalon, awaiting Princess Katharine's death. She'd come from death  
to more death, and maybe that's why the purple girl had looked so  
pale.

The other gargoyles had vanished, leaving the three people Fox knew  
alone with their friend and their grief.

Someone had remarked that the dead girl looked like Elisa, and  
around the burns and the mess, he'd been right. Fox didn't know how  
that had happened. She was betting it was one hell of a story.

She looked through the crib slats at her son. He slept peacefully, as  
he always did. No weird mutations, except for the magic thing. No  
time distortions. Not in need of long-term care at a children's  
hospital. Not dead by a Quarryman's planted bomb. Just sleeping and  
perfect.

How much karmic payback was he due for the things she and David  
had wrought, intentionally or not, onto these other children tonight?

VVVVV

He was alone when Elisa found him, sitting on the floor in the  
nursery, wrapped in his wings and holding his knees like when he was  
small.

"Derek?" He said nothing, continued staring at the pile of eggs. "We  
should talk about it."

"The last thing we should do is talk."

She'd known this wasn't going to be easy.

"I know you're hurting. We all are. Maggie's beside herself with  
grief, with worrying about the clones, and about you." _And when I  
let this finally hit me, I'm not sure what I'm going to do._

"Did the boys come back yet?"

"They came to the castle just before sunrise."

"Were they hurt?"

"Not much. Not physically." Elisa had been there when the four had  
landed, silent as owls. She'd tried to reach out to them, but they had  
calmly rebuffed her, had taken places along the tower as naturally as  
if they'd always perched there. The clan had been too surprised to  
even consider stopping them.

"I'll think they'll come home tonight." _I just don't think they're the  
same kids who left._

"Good."

"Come out of here," she coaxed. "Mom and Dad are down. Mom's ...  
taking it harder than I thought she would."

Derek moved his head, turned that she saw his profile in the dim light.  
She could just make out a grimy track along his dusty face. "Elisa, I  
am so sorry."

She caught her breath. "She was ... "

"I killed her."

"Don't be stupid."

"I killed your child and I don't deserve to see any of mine again."

She knelt down beside him, fighting tears of her own. "You have  
nothing to be sorry about. You did so much to help her during her  
life. You and Maggie raised her and I was scared to even see her.  
You tried so hard to find her."

He was shaking his head. "No, no. You don't understand. Burnett.  
Fucking Burnett," he said bitterly.

"Owen wasn't there."

"He was. At Solstice."

And she knew, without asking. Derek bit the words out, what had  
happened after she'd left him alone with the two fay. About Anubis.  
About the deal. Liquid fire moved through her veins as he spoke,  
leaving her tired and numb.

"I didn't know. They didn't tell me. If they had, I never would have  
even tried."

"You came back."

"I wasn't going to. I sat down to try and figure out what to do, and I  
feel asleep. 'Lilah found me." He watched the eggs. "I tried. I  
ordered her to stay down here, I watched over her every minute I  
could. It didn't matter, because I killed her the moment I set eyes on  
her."

Elisa shifted her position, sat down, took his hand, held it for a long  
time.

At last she said, "You didn't kill her. Owen could have made us both  
leave."

"You did go. I had to be the protector of everything."

"And Daniel's alive and well. A year ago, we weren't sure we'd be  
able to say that."

"The price was too high."

"And you should have been brighter when it came time to pay it. And  
so should I," she said, closing her own eyes. She'd known the  
consequences for involving the fairies. "And maybe 'Lilah would be  
alive right now. And maybe she would have died anyway. We don't  
know."

"I thought he'd want my life."

"We need your life. You're a husband, a father, a brother, a son, a  
leader. The people here need you. We need you."

He nodded towards the nest. "That child needs her."

"It'll have you. And me. And Maggie. And I don't think you could  
keep the boys away with a crowbar." She rested her head on his  
shoulder. "Your son needs you. You did something amazing for him.  
You fought for his life, and you won."

"I didn't fight. I stood there and begged, and then traded away the life  
of my niece."

"Make it worth it."

"What?"

"Fine. If you want to wallow in guilt, fine. You killed my daughter.  
Do you feel better now? Don't you get it? She's gone." She was  
losing her battle with her tears. "You can't bring her back by moping  
here and holding all the blame inside. We can never bring her back.  
But if you're right, and the price was Daniel's life, then use it. Enjoy  
it. However much time the two of you have together, use every  
minute. If you really think that talking to fairies in the darkness had  
more to do with killing 'Lilah than a three hundred pound bomb, then  
at least make the price worth it. Or she really did die for nothing."

She got to her feet, shoved her hands deep in her pockets, and headed  
back to the chamber where her family waited.

About thirty seconds later, she heard a rush of footsteps, and then he  
was beside her. Neither spoke, but he slipped his hand in hers like he  
had when he was five and she seven, the first day he'd gone to  
kindergarten.

Hand in hand, they walked back towards light, towards home.

VVVVV

" ... found torn to shreds." Marshall was never a sunny reporter, but  
his tone as he spoke was far more grave than Fox had ever heard him.

Fox sat on the couch, Alexander on her lap flipping through the pages  
of an overlarge board book with farm animals. He wasn't looking at  
the television, which was good as the picture had changed to a bloody  
mess that bore a slight resemblance to Thailog.

Fox shuddered and clicked off the tv. David was already down at the  
police station, meeting with Elisa to help answer questions about the  
other dead gargoyle, Delilah. When Thailog's remains came in, things  
were just going to get worse for everyone.

"Owen," she said loudly, and heard his footstep in the hall a moment  
later.

"Yes?"

"Call David. They just found Thailog, or what's left of him anyway."

Owen paled even further than normal. "Another explosion?"

She shook her head. Then she looked at Alex and said carefully, "He  
looked like he met the bad end of a mob."

"Thailog," chirped Alex.

Fox cuddled him against her chest and said, "Sh, now. That's a bad  
word."

"I'll contact Mr. Xanatos immediately."

"Thank you."

He paused as he pulled out his phone. "Fox?" His tone had changed,  
though not his voice. She met his eyes, knowing he was speaking to  
her now as himself, the true him, whatever his name.

"Mm?"

"Angela has returned."

"I know." Even now, the gargoyle was sound asleep, well, stone-  
asleep anyway, on the top tower, hand in hand with Broadway. Four  
other new gargoyles had joined them around the walls of the castle  
just before sunup. Fox wasn't sure yet if they were staying.

"As soon as my duties are completed this afternoon, I will be handing  
Mr. Xanatos my paperwork for an immediate leave of absence."

They watched each other for a moment. Fox had promised to go with  
him back to Avalon once Angela returned, in order to bring charges  
against the Three Sisters. She'd given her word in haste, angry at an  
attempt on Owen's life and fired up by the new knowledge that the  
Three were her family, and that the Puck was, too. Nearly two years  
had passed, and Alex was bigger now, and Fox had cooled down, but  
she'd promised. Only by traveling with her would Puck possibly be  
allowed to return from his banishment, and she owed him.

Fox cuddled Alex again, kissing his hair. "You'll have to let me know  
what I should pack for the trip."

VVVVV

Elisa still hadn't slept, not after the bombing, not after returning to the  
Labyrinth. When they brought in Thailog's body to the morgue, laid  
him on the next table over from where Delilah lay, unnaturally still,  
she thought maybe this was some long, bad dream.

The expression on Xanatos's face, as he saw the remains of what had  
been in a way his own first child, put that thought to rest. This was  
real.

Elisa needed a lot more coffee to deal with today.

The ME examined Thailog's wounds critically, as Elisa stood back to  
watch. She'd come down here, after the questions, to make certain  
'Lilah's body was treated with some kind of dignity. According to the  
preliminary paperwork, her death was not being considered a  
homicide (or suicide) but was falling under "destruction of property."  
Elisa wondered if they'd find the XE corporate logo tattooed on what  
remained of Thailog's butt.

No tattoo. Dozens of puncture wounds, slices and gouges. Gunshot  
wounds on his torso and wing, with bullets still internal, which the  
medical examiner collected for evidence.

After a while, she turned away from the autopsy and pulled up a stool  
beside Delilah. Procedure said not to touch the body until all the  
evidence had been collected; this had already been screwed up when  
Angela had retrieved her the river Instead, Elisa watched, listening as  
the ME finished examining Thailog.

Then, both bodies were placed on trays and rolled into the cooler to  
prevent decay. Elisa watched as the ME put a padlock on both doors  
to prevent anyone from getting in, taking or defacing the bodies.

Xanatos placed a wary hand on her shoulder, which after a moment,  
she allowed. Together, they left the cold room.

VVVVV

"Are you _sure_ you don't want me to come with you? I can call  
Mrs. Ong, have Mason and Martens run things for a few days."

Fox placed her arms around his neck and kissed his nose. "You worry  
too much."

"I have a right to worry. Once you're there, you're on their turf. They  
can keep you. I don't want to lose you."

"You'll never lose me, David. If they try to make us stay, I'll do what  
I did when I was a teenager."

"Holding your breath until you turn blue probably won't faze them."

"No, but I'll at least fit in better. Trust me. I'll come back to you,  
before you even notice I'm gone."

"I doubt that." He wrapped his arms fiercely around her, until she  
couldn't breathe, as if he were trying to become part of her, protect her  
when she wasn't with him.

"Take good care of Alex, and make sure your girlfriends are out of the  
castle when I get back."

"I'll do that. Remind me, the diapers go on which end?"

She stopped her giggle in her throat. He could still make her laugh.  
He had always made her laugh. Love for this man surged inside her,  
with it unsurety. Should she jeopardize the little piece of heaven  
they'd built for the sake of a dead man?

No, not a dead man. Her step-brother, even if she'd never met him,  
and that made it different. That made it family. Without David, she  
would never have understood what it meant to have one, really, nor to  
love someone more than herself. He'd taught her how, and she'd  
taught him, and Alexander had driven it home. They were a family.  
Owen was her family, too, and through him Ian, and through Ian the  
gargoyles. If she'd learned only one lesson from the consequences of  
her and David's actions, it was that families belonged together, and  
protected their own. If they didn't, no one would.

By the boat, she saw Owen, waiting and trying not to watch.

"We have to go," she said. He squeezed her even tighter, threatening  
her ribs before he released her.

"Be careful," he said.

"We will."

He turned to Owen. "You'll make sure nothing happens to her."

"You have my word. I will make certain she returns safely, and  
soon."

David held out his hand. Owen, hesitating, took it. David pulled him  
into a strange half-embrace, to Owen's shock. "And you, as well."

Owen pulled back, though not quickly, and nodded. "I will do my  
best."

He stepped away from them both, and a green flickering light  
surrounded him. It faded into Puck, who wore a distinctly Owenish  
expression still on his face, incongruous to what she knew of him.  
How much had the two personalities become one since Oberon's  
decree?

"You should know this," said Puck to David. "Among our kind, it is  
most uncommon to have more than a passing fancy for a particular  
mortal. We like them, occasionally admire them, and often amuse  
ourselves by playing among them at games of this and that. It is  
almost never heard of for one of us to truly love one of those. That is  
why Oberon finds the mention of Renard so distasteful, for he did  
have the Queen's love once upon a time. A mortal who has the love  
of one of our kind is rare, special. You, my friend, are beloved of  
three."

David, for perhaps the first time in his life, was speechless. He  
inclined his head, but said nothing as Fox kissed him once last time,  
and then followed Puck into the boat. He pushed them off from the  
shore, and stood, watching them pull out of sight.

Puck moved to the prow of the boat, raised his arms, and said  
something in Latin.

Mists moved in around them, swirling, covering their faces from his  
sight, and then they were gone as if they had never been at all.

David was alone.

VVVVV

She was in the Park, at a playground. The bright sun warmed her face  
and shoulders. Elisa looked up at it and smiled. The park was filled  
with children. Alexander played in a sandbox, Xanatos watching him  
dotingly. Fox was nowhere to be seen. Oh, yes, she'd gone to Avalon  
with Owen, and would not be back for a while.

"Mother?"

She turned. For all the kids in the park, there was only one on the  
swing set. She was perhaps seven or eight, and the sun made her  
white hair shimmer like pure silver. As the swing moved forward, her  
wings quivered behind her.

"See how high I can go!"

"'Lilah, honey, be careful," Elisa said, watching her in fear. Her  
daughter was so fragile, sometimes it seemed a gust of wind could  
break her.

'Lilah laughed. "Watch this!" The swing zenithed, and she jumped.  
As she did, her wings expanded and caught the air. She glided easily  
for a moment, then settled gracefully to the earth.

Her eyes were bright as she came to Elisa. "Did you see?"

"I saw," she said, stroking her child's wispy hair from her eyes. She'd  
had a nightmare, of a broken body, much older than this girl, but that  
had faded in the sunlight. At dusk, Goliath and Angela would  
awaken, and the four of them would have supper, and they would talk  
about their day in the park together.

The wind stirred the leaves in the surrounding oaks, momentarily  
blinding her with light. She saw a flashbulb go off, and heard  
McKenzie's voice. "Maza, she looks just like you."

She knelt down in front of 'Lilah, and placed her arms around the  
girl's neck. "I love you, sweetheart."

"Aw, Mom," protested her daughter, squirming in embarrassment.

"I do."

'Lilah pulled away from her grasp. Stuck in place, Elisa could only  
watch as she climbed on the merry-go-round, and spun faster and  
faster and faster, her features blurring into white and brown and black  
and blue ...

VVVVV

Elisa opened her eyes. She lay on her living room rug, covered in a  
spill of quilts. Beside her, Goliath curled, in the half-dozing state that  
passed for sleep when he was flesh. She sat up, fully awake. She  
knew where she was. She had never given birth to a halfling  
gargoyle, and Delilah was dead.

Gooseflesh prickled her arms. She pulled them against her, shaking.

Goliath opened his eyes. "Elisa?"

Everything crashed inside of her. Daniel, the failed cure, Katharine's  
death, Delilah's abduction, and now _her_ death, all hit her in  
one overwhelming wave. In her mind's eye, she saw 'Lilah's face, her  
own face, younger and more lost perhaps, but still her own, and in  
many ways, her daughter's face. No matter how she'd come to be, part  
of Elisa Maza had gone into the mix, and had come out as a new,  
wonderful being with her own thoughts and fears and wishes and  
dreams and ...

A sob pulled itself from her chest. She felt Goliath place his arms  
around her, and she held to him still trembling, bitterly weeping into  
his shoulder as she mourned the loss of all that never was.

VVVVV

"But Captain!" Elisa slammed her palm onto Chavez's desk.

Chavez looked down at Elisa's hand. Elisa followed her gaze and  
grudgingly removed her hand.

"I'm sorry, Elisa. The investigation isn't closed yet, and until then,  
they're evidence."

"They're not evidence!" she shouted. Softer, Elisa said, "In any other  
case, the bodies would have been released to the family days ago."

"This isn't any other case. And frankly, these aren't normal bodies.  
The mayor is fielding demands from half a dozen government  
agencies who want to take them for study."

Her heart hammered. "No. Absolutely not. They're people. They  
may have wings and tails and claws, but they're people, Captain."

"Not legally, they're not. Legally, they're property."

Elisa's stomach clenched. "You can't be serious."

Chavez sat back in her chair. "Of course, if someone came forward to  
claim their property, the mayor couldn't refuse."

Elisa watched her carefully. "You just said they were evidence."

"And that's what I intend to continue telling the press and the mayor's  
office." Chavez gave nothing away on her face, but her eyes gleamed.  
Maria understood about family. "Your pal Xanatos ... "

"He's not my pal."

Chavez held up her hand. "The man whose castle you visit on an  
almost nightly basis and who shows up at the same places as you do  
and so on. The man everyone in town has seen around gargoyles. If  
he showed up at the station and claimed they were his, we'd probably  
believe him."

"He doesn't own them. Gargoyles are people. They own themselves."

Chavez glanced at her closed door. "Elisa, we both took an oath to  
uphold the law. According to the law, the two bodies in the morgue  
have the same legal status as dead dogs. If Xanatos comes to claim  
his ... dogs, I can probably arrange that he get them. If you continue  
to say no one owned them, then someone from the FBI is going to  
take them back to DC and they're going to wind up in a storage  
facility somewhere pickled in formaldehyde. Which do you want?"

"Captain, this is all going to go public. And if we say they're  
property, people will assume the rest of the gargoyles aren't covered  
by any kind of legal protections."

"They already aren't covered, under the current law. Though I hear  
they're probably going to get a spot on the Endangered Species List."

Elisa paused, weighed her options, and knew she had to pick the one  
that hurt less. "Thank you for your time, Captain. I need to go back  
to my desk and make a call now."

Chavez nodded. As Elisa's hand touched the doorknob, Captain  
Chavez said, "Elisa? Laws change."

VVVVV

David made calls. Normally he'd have Owen do this, and although he  
had a temporary assistant provided by Moonrise to handle Owen's  
more mundane tasks, not everything could be delegated to someone  
new.

Detective Maza had described the process as something relatively  
simple. He had to show up at the station and fill out the form for  
return of property in evidence. A few days later, his item or items  
would be returned to him, assuming they were no longer needed for  
the investigation at hand. Biological materials, such as dead animals,  
were usually turned over quickly.

Maza hadn't known, or hadn't told him, that enterprising individuals  
from no less than five government agencies had filled out the same  
forms requesting Thailog and Delilah be given to them instead.

The mayor didn't want to alienate the Feds, but he also didn't want the  
media hounding him about denial of personal property to one of the  
city's most prominent citizens. He really didn't want David calling  
him and reminding him about the large contributions XE had made to  
man's campaign.

David was a good businessman. He knew how to get what he wanted,  
and he knew when to deal.

He had the competent young fellow from Moonrise bring him the  
documents from the Thailog project and draw up a form to sign over  
ownership of the project's final result to the Department of  
Agriculture. In exchange, the various agencies would drop their  
claims to Delilah.

It wasn't a perfect arrangement, but few things ever were.

After his assistant took the forms away to hand-deliver them at the  
precinct station, David stayed in his chair at his desk, looking out over  
the city until long after darkness claimed the sky.

If it had been in his nature to apologize, David would have asked  
Thailog's forgiveness. Instead, he pulled a rarely-touched bottle from  
the wall cabinet, and pondered his sins.

VVVVV

Xanadu was always beautiful, but the first days of fall were the  
loveliest, full of raucous red maples and majestic orange and yellow  
oaks. Such bright colors still clung to the trees, like festive scarves  
for a gay party, illuminated by the property spotlights.

Funerals weren't supposed to be pretty, but sometimes they were  
regardless.

Xanatos had made the arrangements, gotten the permits necessary.  
He'd even selected the coffin: slender and white, with silvery accents.  
Elisa had glared at him when she'd gone with him to the morgue,  
when she'd first seen it; her face had softened as she watched the  
orderlies tenderly lay the body onto the silk interior, and she'd thanked  
him in a quiet voice.

She'd recognized what he'd done. It was a girl's coffin, or to use the  
old-fashioned parlance, a maiden's. She'd thought he'd been making a  
cruel kind of joke at first, before seeing that he was trying to give  
Delilah back some small piece of innocence.

He couldn't understand, wouldn't understand, that despite all she'd  
been through, she'd never really lost it.

The coffin was closed now. While the clan had seen many a warrior  
lost in battle, and gargoyle children were not normally spared the  
sight, these were new times, and Delilah was also human. Elisa had  
only opened the latches once. Her rookery brothers had each kissed  
her forehead in turn, and Elisa had placed her favorite toy beside her,  
and they'd closed up tight inside before Maggie could see and start  
sobbing again.

Hudson spoke the words, what Goliath had told her was the usual  
litany at the death of a clan member. Elisa barely heard him, listened  
instead to the night wind blowing through the trees, to Alexander as  
his father, standing a respectful distance back from the rest, tried to  
shush him.

The white roses Beth had sent twisted in her hands as Hudson stopped  
talking. Malibu nodded at Derek, and they lifted the coffin together  
and lowered it into the grave. Then, Boo crouched at the edge of the  
grave, and folded his wrists across his chest. _Love._

Elisa tossed Beth's flowers onto the coffin. She had nothing of her  
own to leave; she had only brought Grover. The rest filed by,  
dropping pebbles and small flowers and handfuls of dirt. Tachi blew  
a kiss while she clutched at her brother's hand.

Boo didn't move from his perch until the last pebbles had hit and  
rolled and stilled.

Then he stood, pulled something from a pouch — Elisa saw a strange  
glint of metal and thought it was a knife before she realized it was one  
of the new electronic organizers, but one with a cracked and broken  
screen — and cast it hard into the grave.

He signed, almost savagely, "For you." And he didn't speak or sign  
another word until hours later, after her grave had been filled.

VVVVV

They came back to the city in the late evening hours, no one speaking  
much. The Mazas returned home; the Mutates and the clones went to  
the secret place below the city streets they thought he didn't know  
about. The clan, minus Broadway and Angela who had opted to go  
with the Mutates for the night, went back to the castle. Elisa had  
taken a few nights' leave from work for personal time. Currently, that  
personal time was being spent in his living room with the gargoyles.

David stayed there with them for a few minutes, watching Lexington  
and Alexander play cars with Tachi on the vast superhighway of the  
carpet, also observing Elisa and Goliath as they put a tape in the vcr,  
and Brooklyn and Katana as they sat together, and Bronx asleep and  
Hudson reading. Alexander was accepted among them as a part of the  
family, maybe even a surrogate hatchling. He himself was not one of  
them, was accepted on certain terms and no more. They would never  
completely trust him, no matter what he did, and he supposed that was  
a fate he'd bought and paid for with all that he'd done since he'd first  
read the story in the Grimorum and wondered. He was not of their  
kind.

Feeling the stranger in his own house, he left Alex in their care and  
went up to the top parapet of his castle.

The biting wind was always strong, always pushing him out to and  
possibly someday over the edge. It wasn't the highest spot on the  
tallest building in the world, but it was damned close, and he had the  
place to himself tonight.

To be alone.

Angela had been gone nearly two years before her return from  
Avalon. He had a strong suspicion she'd been back sooner, although  
he couldn't say why, merely that she'd somehow aged more than she  
should have on the fairy island.

Time passed differently there, certainly. Someone who got lost could  
be gone for an age before they returned to familiar ground. It was like  
the speed-of-light time dilation theory, and the more he thought about  
this last, the more he worried with justifiable cause that by the time he  
saw Fox again, he would be an old man.

If he ever saw Fox again.

They'd only been gone two weeks, fourteen hours as the fay held time.  
He tried to take heart from the thought, thinking maybe it meant there  
had been a full trial for his sisters-in-law. The name O.J. Simpson  
passed through his thoughts, and he banished it before it took hold. A  
year-long trial on Avalon would mean twenty-four years without his  
wife. He didn't think he could face that.

He peered over the edge of the parapet. It was a long way to the  
levels below, a much, much longer way to the ground. Demona, in  
her human form, had jumped off the building once, and it being  
sunset, had more than enough time to transform completely and take  
flight. He doubted the same thing would happen if he jumped.

Who was he kidding? He'd spent every day of his life since his  
mother's untimely death trying to cheat his own. He'd gathered a  
fortune around himself, matched with the power and influence it  
brought. He'd collected magical trinkets, potions, had in his time held  
two gods captive and a god-like being bound to him.

If there were some way, he would give it all back, in exchange for  
having Fox in his arms, Owen at his side, Alexander binding them all  
with his magical laughter. Standing here, alone, he was aware of  
being incomplete.

Once, he'd been strong and independent. He'd used Janine Renard to  
get nearer to her father and take whatever he could from the man.  
He'd used Owen in the same spirit if not precisely the same fashion,  
as a tool to meet his ends. Fox and Owen had allowed him to use  
them, because they were using him back, Fox to aggravate her father,  
Owen to relieve the incredible boredom placed upon him by  
Halcyon's moral rigidity. He wasn't certain when he'd fallen in love  
with Fox, nor could he name the day Owen had stopped being merely  
his assistant and had entered the unknown territory of friendship.

Perhaps weakly, he'd become reliant upon the continued presence of  
both. He liked waking up beside Fox each morning, enjoyed hearing  
Owen's unique perspective on issues other than simply the daily  
operations of the business. He had asked Fox to marry him to keep  
her near, and while Puck had made the offer himself, David had been  
the one to choose a lifetime of having Owen at his side.

Tonight, he had to face the possibility of losing them both to the  
impossible lure of the Isle, whose call echoed inside their veins in a  
way he could not share.

He saw an image: himself and Alexander, existing as he had with his  
own father before he'd finally left, two strangers who happened to be  
in the same house and share the same genes, but with absolutely  
nothing in common.

Alex would grow as one of Them, the Fair Ones. The pull would  
draw his son away from him into a shimmering destiny.

And then David would be utterly alone.

He looked upwards. The stars were cold and bright up here, more so  
than in the city below. If the ancient pattern in them declared he  
would be alone for all his life, he would be alone.

David had spent his life raging against the force of pattern, seeking a  
way to escape its clutches. He dared to oppose Death itself; surely he  
could find a way to outwit mere Fate.

David Xanatos, corporate giant, Illuminatus, brilliant innovator,  
billionaire with a mansion and a yacht, stared up at the silent stars and  
stuck his tongue out at them.

He walked back downstairs, went to the living room. He listened to  
strains of the second musical number from "Hercules," heard Alex's  
car noises.

Without so much as a notice from the gargoyles, he sat on the floor,  
then lay stretched out on it beside Alex. He picked up a powder-blue  
truck about the size of the end of his thumb, and rolled it across the  
carpet to the delighted laughter of his son.

VVVVV  
Interlude  
VVVVV  
Introduction to: Saving Delilah: the Psychology of Abusive  
Relationships  
by Dr. H. Wood  
Copyright 2023  
All Rights Reserved, University of California, Berkeley  
VVVVV

My students have many questions to ask me at the beginning of a  
semester. Other than "Will there be a final?" and "What are your  
office hours?" the most common question I am asked is, "What is it  
like to be a gargoyle?"

As I stated, this is not an especially original question; however I am  
not foolish enough to believe that many of those finding this book in  
the bookstore or library are not flipping through to ask that same  
question. After all, to my knowledge, this is the first nonfiction book  
published by one of my species. There are bound to be questions.

Initially, I will muddy the waters further by answering the same way I  
answer for my students. That is, I have never considered myself a  
gargoyle.

One may then point out my wings, my tail, my rather obvious  
aversion to sunlight (oh, the joys of night classes), even as my  
students do. Scientifically speaking, yes I belong to the species  
gargoylites. As one may already have known, I am in fact a genetic  
clone of another gargoyle named Broadway.

This is what it was like for me to be a gargoyle.

I was not hatched, as most gargoyles are, in a rookery among many  
parents, many siblings. I was created in a decanting chamber, and  
allowed to breathe my first in September of 1996. As of this writing,  
I am twenty-six years old. If I had been born in the normal fashion, I  
would be approximately thirteen in human years. I am physically  
about thirty-three in human terms.

I have three rookery brothers who were decanted at the same time as I  
was. The reader is probably aware that Brent Wood is my brother.  
Our other brothers are named Malibu and Burbank. They live in New  
York. Hi, guys, if you're reading this.

We were created by another clone, named Thailog. The reader who is  
gifted with anagrams already realizes he was a clone of Goliath,  
whose fame far outreaches mine. Thailog created us to be mindless  
drones, to serve him in his megalomaniacal plans for the world. He  
gave us programming while we were "in the vat," simply that we  
would always obey him. Shortly after our birth, we were taken from  
him and placed with loving foster parents, Derek and Maggie Maza  
and Toby Swires. They taught us to read, to speak, to think, to  
become real people rather than simple robots. We did not consider  
ourselves gargoyles. The real gargoyles, as we called them, were  
Goliath and his clan. We were something else. We were clones.

We had a sister.

Delilah was created at the same time my brothers and I were. She  
was also programmed to obey. When we were young, we didn't  
understand that her programming was slightly different, that there  
were other commands he had given her to obey without question.

The reader must understand, by the time we were taken from  
Thailog's custody, the five of us were in adult bodies, but were  
mentally about four years old. We had been alive for about a week.  
In that week, Thailog molested our sister at least six times to my  
knowledge, and probably more.

He did something worse to her, and I am sure the reader is asking,  
"What could be worse?" Thailog programmed us, as I said. In his  
programming of Delilah, he included a subroutine to ensure her  
submission. He convinced her that he was the only one who would  
ever love her, and that any pain he caused her was her own fault, for  
something she had done, for something she failed to do.

The reader will certainly have seen the tape of August 13, 1998.  
What the reader may not know is that two months prior to her death,  
Thailog found us, and abducted 'Lilah. The night of August 13, two  
members of our clan discovered where he had been keeping her, and  
went to free her.

She didn't want to go with them.

Delilah was convinced that he would find her, no matter where she  
went, no matter what she did. She was convinced that every wound  
he gave her was for her own failings, that in fact he was doing it for  
her own good.

She very nearly stayed in that room, and if she had, who knows what  
might have happened that night.

She decided to go. I cannot say what went into this decision, whether  
it was fear of his anger when he returned, or a realization of the  
difference she could make by standing against him, or something else  
entirely. I never will know. All I know is that, in the end, she chose  
to leave her prison.

This book details the psychology behind abusive relationships, with  
an emphasis on sexual relationships, but also selected case studies of  
parent-child relationships. First, the mind of the abuser is studied,  
with the current theories on the initiation of the behavior. Much more  
time is spent on the psychology of the abused, what kind of  
"programming" goes into this particular mindset. Some time is spent  
on co-dependent relationships, as another aspect of abuse. Finally, a  
discussion is made on the best methods of treatment for someone in  
an abusive relationship, both abused and abuser. Both must be treated  
for the cycle to end.

The first step to treatment is, of course, the hardest. The abused party  
must first admit to the abuse, that it is a problem, that it is not okay  
for any reason. The abused must take this step, must walk out of the  
dark room, clinging to the hand of a friend, or just the hope of light.

It's a difficult choice for some. There is comfort even in pain if it is a  
known pain. There is the chance of retaliation from the abuser, even  
the exchange of a possibility of death for the actuality. There is the  
ever present thought, "What if this is the best I'll ever have?" So  
many fears are wrapped up with the decision to leave, to seek help,  
that it is often a wonder anyone ever does. Yet, for the healing to  
begin, it is the one thing that must occur, the choice that must be  
made. No one else can make that choice; only the person in the dark  
room can walk out the door.

For those of us outside, waiting, it can be frustrating to know  
someone we love is in pain, and cannot or will not take that first step.  
As friends, family, therapists, or legal officers, we must know that we  
cannot do it for this person. We cannot go into the situation and save  
Delilah.

The only one who can save Delilah is herself.

VVVVV


End file.
